


bewitched, bothered and bewildered

by leapylion3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, Minor Character Death, Shaving, oh well, the reasoning behind any of this probably doesn't make sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leapylion3/pseuds/leapylion3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hates watching him struggle as he tries to shave, yet she always stays to watch. Perhaps it’s because she’s worried about him getting hurt by a knife once more. His hands are shaking; he’s still recovering from the attempt on his life, but the maester said that the worst has passed, and Jon is getting stronger every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bewitched, bothered and bewildered

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: _Jon/his wife, shaving.  
>  “I don’t really trust people with sharp objects in their hands anymore,” he stated dryly.  
> Jon has issues with people coming near him with sharp objects-except his wife, and so has difficulty shaving. One day, she gets tired of his clumsy efforts, and shaves him herself, which naturally leads to tender sexy loving._

Alys sits on the edge of the counter, her feet swinging over the edge. She absentmindedly hums a song that was played at supper the night before. She’s still getting used to having feasts and guests every other night, although she loves dancing with her husband to the singer’s soft tunes. Both are terrible with their dancing, but she feels safe in his arms. She blushes, remembering all the filthy words he whispered in her ear when they were dancing; last night, he made sure to fulfill every fantasy he’d told her.

Karhold is smaller than she remembered; perhaps it’s because last time she was here, she was scarce more than a girl. She had grown during her time spent at Castle Black. A part of her misses the Wall and all the Black Brothers- no, only a handful of them. She can never forgive them for letting her first husband die, nor can she forgive them for trying to kill her second husband.

The handful she misses, she misses dearly. Samwell was always pleasant, with his bumbling words and nervous ways. Dolorous Edd had made her laugh like no other, though most of the time, he wasn’t really trying. She loved listening to Grenn and Pyp’s banter, wondering who would win the round.

Another part of her is content to have left; she has regained Karhold in the Stark name, and her belly has started to swell with child. It is also good to leave the Wall and the wildlings, to get away from the memory of Sigorn. She couldn’t handle the pitying looks they would give her after Sigorn’s corpse was burnt on the funeral pyre. She may not have been married to him long, but she had come to care for him, maybe even love him.

Things could have turned out much worse, she decides. She could have been married to someone terrible, who she could never grow to love no matter how hard she tried. King Stannis Baratheon had been generous and offered Alys and Karhold to Jon Snow- now Stark. Rickon Stark, found by Davos Seaworth, now held Winterfell, and a Stark was King in the North once more.

Alys holds the towel around her body with one hand, the other bracing herself on the counter. Droplets of water slide down her back from her hair, still damp from the bath she shared with her husband. Her cheeks burn when she remember how long they’d been in there, touching each other; the tips of her fingers are still wrinkled from the bathwater.

She sighs. “Jon,” she murmurs, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “Please, just go to the barber.” She hates watching him struggle as he tries to shave, yet she always stays to watch. Perhaps it’s because she’s worried about him getting hurt by a knife once more. His hands are shaking; he’s still recovering from the attempt on his life, but the maester said that the worst has passed, and Jon is getting stronger every day.

“I don’t really trust people with sharp objects in their hands anymore,” Jon states dryly, accompanied by a little roll of his eyes. He curses under his breath when his hand jerks to the side, the tip of the knife cutting a thin white scratch going down the length of his cheek.

She winces, her eyes downcast. “Right. Sorry,” she mumbles, feeling guilty. She has the urge to kiss the fresh scratch, to run her tongue along it to soothe him.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. He sets the knife down, staring into the basin of water on the counter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Jon, it’s fine.” She smiles at him, tracing the scratch with a feather light touch. “You’re just so damn stubborn.” They share a chuckle, and he leans into her touch. “Would you let me do it?” she asks quietly, afraid for the answer. What if he doesn’t trust her? She knows she trusts him with her life, has since that day she came to Castle Black. But what has _she_ done to earn _his_ trust?

He hands her the knife, albeit reluctantly. She can feel his pulse quicken in anticipation when she cups his neck. She knows it’s a huge step for him; coming to terms with what happened, and trying to get past that. She feels her heart swell with a fierce pride for her husband.

Alys is extra careful with the blade, barely exerting any pressure on it. Jon flinches once in awhile, and she has to comfort him with gentle assurances. “Almost done,” she tells him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

She shaves off the rest of the stubble on his cheeks and upper lip, then rinses any remaining hair off the blade and off of Jon. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she teases lightly, drying him with a towel from the counter. She pecks him on the tip of his nose, her lips curled upward in a small smile. “I miss the beard already,” she sighs wistfully. Although she won’t admit it to him, she loves waking up in the morning and seeing marks and burns left behind all over her body from his beard.

His thumb traces her jaw line and the curve of her neck, his eyes wide with a strange sort of curiosity she’s never seen before. He’s usually reserved with his demonstrations of affection, except for when they’re in their own bed. “Thank you,” he says faintly.

“You’re welcome, my lord,” she whispers, feeling her breath hitch in her throat. He looks down on her, his eyes darkened with lust. She would be weak at the knees, were she standing; he always has that effect on her.

He smirks a bit, his other hand going to her hip. “I thought we agreed not to bother with the courtesies anymore.” His voice is low and husky, sending chills up and down her spine. He captures her lips with his, the hand on her hip pulling her closer to him. It feels different kissing him when he’s clean shaven, but that doesn’t mean she likes it any less.

Jon pulls off the towel wrapped around her body and it lands on the floor with a dull _thud_. “My lovely wife,” he murmurs, taking off the towel wrapped around his waist. Alys did not think a man could be beautiful, but Jon simply _is_ ; all taut muscle and sharp lines.

He slides into her easily, his hand on her ass, keeping her on the edge of the counter. Her legs automatically wrap around his waist, and she doesn’t want to let him go. She tangles her fingers in his wet hair, bringing him down for another kiss.

He spends inside her, filling her with his seed, and he brings her to her own peak, his fingers in her cunt. Jon lays his head on her breast, catching his breath. Alys runs her fingers through his curls and coos softly, willing her pulse to slow down.

She laughs suddenly, and he lifts his head from her breast, eyeing her questioningly. She hops off the counter, her arms around his neck. “We’ve made quite a mess, my lord…” Her eyes sparkle with mirth and mischief. “I think we’ll need to take another bath.”            


End file.
